


reasons why curt should have prepared a better first aid kit than this, what the hell curt: a five hundred page essay by owen carvour

by Nottodaylogic (MandaloreArtist)



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Broken Bones, First Aid, Fluff and Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon, Secret Satan present for Bo!!!, accidentally happened o o p, also, and it’s acidentqlly a bit much, attempts at hurt/comfort, forearm to be exact, gosh I hope so, sedative/painkiller is used, so curt is a wee bit loopy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 19:23:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21258377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandaloreArtist/pseuds/Nottodaylogic
Summary: you asked for hurt/comforti gave you literal-hurt/banter-as-comfort(secret satan for bo on the saf server!!!!)(edited 2/5/2020 for formatting)





	reasons why curt should have prepared a better first aid kit than this, what the hell curt: a five hundred page essay by owen carvour

**Author's Note:**

> happy hawwoleen, bo!!!!
> 
> hope you like it :D

“Is… is that a packet of crisps?”

“For raising blood sugar.” Curt rolled his eyes, the action overexaggerated to the point where his head moved along with his eyeballs.  _ This is what happens when you deal with people who don’t know how to properly measure out your sedatives! Like  _ Curtis L. Mega,  _ apparently!  _ Owen growled in frustration as Curt carried on, only vaguely aware of his increasingly threatened mortality. “N’ you get hungry, doin’ first aid.”

“This is your  _ first aid kit,  _ why are  _ crisps  _ a priority?!”

Curt shrugged deliriously. “Dunno. Seemed a good idea at the time. Still seems sensib… sensabubble. Hah.” He giggled and tried to lift up his arm, causing a twinge of pain. Obviously. 

Because it was  _ broken _ . And he  _ didn’t have a bloody splint on yet.  _

_ “ _ Bubble.” Another giggle.

Because Owen had to  _ make one himself.  _

Curt nodded sagely. “I like that word.” 

With what was essentially  _ garbage.  _

“Bubble, bubble, bubble.” 

Owen resisted the urge to scream. 

The next thing he pulled out was…  _ a pocket flashlight.  _ Owen blinked.  _ That’s… actually helpful.  _ It was a moonless night, and the forest was dark. Curt’s forearm was broken, he’d accidentally had a too-large dose of the sedatives, and 

He kept rifling through the sack of junk that his partner called sufficient for medical procedures. Candy wrappers, a ruler, far more bottles of whisky than seemed strictly necessary, a few bandages thrown in, a bottle of pills with no label… 

“For your birthday,” Owen told Curt, “I’m getting you new medical supplies. End of story.”

A whine escaped Curt’s lips as he pouted. “But I wanted a kiss for my birthday!”

“No, you don’t deserve one. You can have a kiss when you have a first aid kit  _ with actually important supplies in it! _ ” Owen stood up, holding a roll of bandages, the ruler, and one of the bottles of whisky. “You don’t even have a pair of scissors to cut the bandages!”

“I have whiskey,” Curt offered.

“Not a real painkiller!”

Curt frowned as Owen kneeled on the grass in front of him and began wrapping the cloth around the ruler. “Then why do you have it out?”

“Oh, no, you misunderstand me. You’ve already  _ had  _ your painkillers, remember? That’s why you’re all loopy.”

“M’not.”

“Don’t even  _ try  _ that with me, not when I heard you saying  _ ‘bubbles’  _ over and over. You don’t need any more. Wouldn’t give you any if you asked. The whiskey, though?” Owen jerked his head towards the bottle. “This is mine. I’ll need a lot of it to deal with your complete and utter idiocy.” 

Curt yelped in protest as Owen finished cushioning the ruler. He thought for a moment, then ripped the cloth with his teeth. Curt raised his eyebrows and mumbled—most likely something inappropriate and eye-roll-worthy—which Owen ignored. “Hold still.”

Curt swooned— _ swooned _ . “My hero.”

“You’re lucky you’re injured.” It was good Curt wasn’t bleeding, what with his haemophobia—at least when it was his own, anyways. He would have fainted dead away long ago had that happened. 

Maybe that would have been for the best.

Trying to pad a broken forearm with bandages in the middle of the forest at night by only the light of a cheap flashlight wasn’t exactly Owen’s idea of a good time either. 

“Stop  _ squirming,”  _ Owen growled through the flashlight in his mouth. His partner kept scooting away from his arms and cringing. As if Owen weren’t trying to  _ help  _ him. “It’ll be easier if you stay still.”

“It hurts!”

Owen snapped, “And whose fault is that?” The flashlight fell out of his mouth, momentarily illuminating Curt’s wince. Owen’s heart softened.  _ Oh bloody hell, what am I doing?  _ “I’m sorry, love. I’m just a bit panicked.”

“S’fine.” Curt grinned shakily, open and unguarded as he so rarely is. For a moment, all Owen wants to do is to lean in and feel that smile on his, to lose himself in the press of their mouths—it would be so,  _ so easy  _ to just—

_ Wait.  _ Owen blinked.  _ Can’t kiss him yet. Not until he’s gotten the most basic medical attention.  _

So he leaned forward and picked up the flashlight. He would finish the job if Curt’s fidgeting killed him.

Curt, miraculously, was perfectly still as Owen placed the ruler underneath his forearm, and remained so while it was secured. Once he was done, he checked for signs of decreased blood circulation. He found none. 

“You feel better now, old boy?” Owen asked, somewhat anxiously.  _ God, I need a drink. _

“Yea.” Curt shrugged. “Can’t move m’ arm, but—”

“But that’s the point.”

“—‘xactly.” 

_Good. _A rush of relief washed over him. Owen reached forward to test Curt’s pulse, only for his partner to pull him in with his good arm and plant a messy, woozy, _wonderful _kiss on his lips. 

“Love you,” Curt murmured.

Owen froze. “I’m sorry?”

“S’obvious, isn’t it?” Curt smirked, shrugging. “You’re my partner, course I do. Actually,” he mused, “think ‘ve loved you for a while now. Long while.”

A bubble of hysteria built in Owen’s chest, and he laughed, nervous and sudden. “This is an… er, unique time to declare that.” At Curt’s hurt expression, he sobered up. “It’s, er. Mutual. I have… similar feelings for you. Of course.”

“Good.” Curt leaned back against the car. “Thanks, by the way. Help yourself to the chips.”

“Know what? I think I bloody will, thanks for offering.”

“Nooo, I thought you wouldn’t accept!”

“Well, why wouldn’t I? I damn well think I earned them, don’t you?”

“But I want some!”

“Well, too bad then. Crisps are for people without broken arms.”

“Why do you treat me like this.”

“Because I love you.”

“...aaaaaahhhh.”

**Author's Note:**

> im rarely on tumblr at nottodaylogic, come yell at me to write the next chapter of [insert project here] or about one of the various things i like


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